More Than Words Can Express
by Queen Boadicea
Summary: This is the sequel to "100 Words or Less." Buffy and Giles have to share a hotel room. What happens now? Hmmm...


Title: More Than Words Can Express

Author: Queen Boadicea

Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com

Spoiler Warning: BtVS season seven. Spike disappeared after the rape attempt and didn't return and the First Evil isn't in evidence. I mean, who could take _that_ storyline seriously?

Disclaimer: This belongs to Joss Whedon and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses. 

Pairing: Buffy/Giles

Feedback: Do your worst—it can't compare to my worst ;)

[thoughts]

Buffy's head was still spinning as they reached their floor. So befuddled was she with Giles's expert kisses [and who knew Giles could kiss like that? No wonder that Olivia crossed an ocean for him!], she didn't immediately register that they had arrived in front of their hotel room.

Then she came down from her Giles-high with a jolt. Oh crap. They were expected to share a room. Her and Giles. Together. Alone. Crap crap crap crap crap.

Brian briskly inserted the hotel key and had dragged in their bags before Buffy could think of stopping him. What could she say anyway? "Whoops. Big mistake. Me and the big man aren't really together. Think you can book us another room at Harlequin's expense?" She was going to kill Dawn for getting her into this.

Giles may have appeared impassive but he was undergoing a similar inner turmoil. Buffy looked positively ill and he wondered if she was that disgusted at being alone with him. But the way she had responded to his kisses indicated otherwise—his lips were still burning from the heated embrace.

Brian shuffled from one foot to the other and Giles belatedly remembered to give him a tip. Handing him a fiver, he raised an eyebrow when the man showed no sign of leaving. "Yes? Is something amiss?"

"Huh? Oh nothing. Not a thing. I was just wondering…" 

The man blushed slightly and gave Giles an adoring look that caused the Englishman to speak more sharply than was his wont. "Wondering what?"

"If there were any more at home like you." The words came out in a rush and the bellboy's blush turned positively tomato red.

Buffy let out a bark of laughter and Giles glared in her direction before turning his attention back to the curious hotel help. "I don't believe so. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

The bellboy sighed and pocketed his money. "Guess it'd be too much to hope for. See ya. You two lovebirds have a nice time, okay?" He winked at Buffy, cast Giles a final lingering gaze and exited the room.

After he left, Buffy collapsed on the couch and giggled. "Oh Giles. I think he's got a crush on you."

"Understandable. A lot of people find me attractive, it appears. Just ask the good folks at Harlequin," the ex-Watcher replied in dignified tones.

Buffy giggled again at the smile she could see playing about his lips. Those lips…my my. Remembering the kisses caused her laughter to die away and she could feel herself blushing. "So, um. We never did settle the 'couply' thing."

"Quite." He gathered up his bag and walked to the bedroom, partly to see the setup, partly to forestall the inevitable conversation. The hotel was indeed impressively luxurious with plushy cushioned sofas, a wide tub, all the necessary toiletries in the loo, his and her bathrobes—and one large bed. Damn. He'd been hoping for a double, at least. But that would have required awkward explanation to the desk clarks. 

Buffy peered over his shoulder. "What are we looking at? Oh. The big bed. Uh, how do you want to handle it, Giles?"

"Handle it?" He realized the double entendre seconds after she did. Now it was his turn to blush. "Well, we are two adults."

"In a very adult situation," Buffy finished bluntly.

"Y-yes. Perhaps we can simply check out early. There's nothing in the rules that say we _have_ to spend our weekend here. We can tell management we didn't find the accommodations to our liking and then we can make a quiet exit."

"Sure. I mean, it's not like they can hold us here against our will. We're contest winners not inmates from San Quentin. So." Buffy hesitated looking everywhere but at Giles and that really big bed which was coming to seem smaller by the minute.

"So." He didn't want to leave the hotel. He wanted to hash things out. That's why he'd crossed the damned Atlantic, for goodness sakes. That's what they needed to do before making plans to skitter hither and yon. Why was it so difficult to talk to her then? "Buffy—"

"Giles—"

"What?"

"No, you were talking first."

"Ladies first."

"Oh, don't get all British-y on me. You were going to say something." She pulled out a chair from the bedroom desk and sat, looking expectantly at him.

Faced with her determination, he felt an inexplicable urge to back down. Now was literally the moment of truth and he was terrified to hear what she had to say to him. He walked as steadily as he could back into the living room. This would go much smoother without that bed lying there so suggestively with its covers turned down.

Buffy frowned at his retreating back and then scampered after him. Didn't he want to talk to her? They had to settle this before it went too far! [And just how far is too far? Just what were you planning on doing with him, anyway?]

[_This is all Dawn's fault! I never should have let her talk me into this!_]

[That's right; you shouldn't. But you did. You went along with it and now you're here. In a hotel room. WITH GILES. What _are_ you going to do about it?]

[_Crap on crackers._]

[Oh, that helps.] Giving her inner voices a kick, she said, "Giles, are we gonna talk or what?"

He was sitting on one of the hotel sofas polishing his glasses in that infuriating way of his. Then he replaced them and peeked at her above the rims. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning. After all, we are here together as a result of your entry into that contest."

"I didn't post that," she blurted out. "It was Dawn's idea."

Immediately after the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. An injured expression flew across Giles's face before it settled back into studied blankness. "I see. Then this whole thing was—what? A pitiful attempt at a joke and a way to get $500?"

"No! I told you, it was her idea—at first." Meeting with no response, she hurried on, her words spilling out of her in an attempt to explain and justify her behavior. "You see, Dawn got caught up in this spell, actually we all sorta got targeted by it, courtesy of this enchanted jacket by this high school jerk…"

"Excuse me. Did you say an enchanted _jacket?_" It sounded ludicrous and at the same time perfectly plausible. This was the Hellmouth they were discussing, after all.

"Yep. A letter jacket, no less. You know, those things you see the seniors wearing at football games and such."

"I see. You say this jacket was enchanted? To do what, precisely?"

"It made every girl who saw him wearing it into a horny little slutqueen."

His reaction was the last thing she expected. A furious light sparked in his eye and his face set into grim lines. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that Ripper was about to make an appearance. "Love enchantment. The rotten little blighter. Did you say you were affected as well?"

"And how. I was climbing on top of this guy—in a classroom, no less. God knows how far things would have gotten if Xander hadn't come to the rescue." She could see the scene in her mind's eye and she gave an exaggerated shudder. She had deliberately tried to avoid thinking of her sleazy behavior in anything except a comical light…that is, when she permitted herself to think about it at all. Hitting on a freshman…major ick. She should have tracked R.J. down for that and given him a dose of Slayer buttwhoop.

Giles stood up and began pacing. The idea that Buffy may have been ensorcelled to have sex with a virtual stranger was causing his blood to boil. "I trust the situation was resolved satisfactorily," he remarked, his voice stiff with barely suppressed anger.

"Yeah. We got R.J., pulled off the jacket and burned it before we made too many mistakes."

"When you say 'we' you mean you and Dawn, I take it?"

"Well, me and Dawn and Willow and Anya…" she trailed off meekly.

"And Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice," he finished with smile. Noting her blank look, he shrugged. "Before your time."

"Uh, I guess." Darned if she got his old-timey references.

"I'm still not certain how Dawn got the bright idea of proposing me as a male model from that farcical situation."

"Well, she was kinda pissed off over being played like a cheap banjo and was in a 'all men are assholes' mode. So when she saw this card about telling what makes your guy so special, she thought of all the jerkwads she knew and came up with the one guy who wasn't. And that was you."

"I see." He sat down again, slowly this time, his face carefully turned from her. Cherishing a crush from a girl of Dawn's age was embarrassing and jejune for a man of his advanced years. While he was touched at Dawn's high opinion of him, he couldn't help but experience disappointment that her older sister didn't share it. He maintained an even tone as he continued questioning his former charge. "That still doesn't explain why you went along with it."

"Dawn wrote up that essay but she was too young to enter the contest. So she signed my name—and yours."

"WHAT?!" His head swung around and she found herself pinned by a shocked, angry Gilesian glare. "You let her forge my name on a document? Buffy, how could you condone such behavior? What would Joyce have said about such a thing?"

"Giles, I didn't know anything about it until after she'd done it and mailed it in! Believe me, I gave her a first-rate chewing out when I learned about it. You can ask her."

"I most certainly will," he muttered. He sat there fulminating for a few seconds before glancing at her again. "Then what happened after you found out?"

"I was Shocked and Upset Buffy for awhile. But then I started thinking about you…actually I'd been thinking about you before I learned about that contest."

His face softened at that admission and he asked her cautiously, "You had?"

"Yeah. I was angry at first about your leaving, you know? I thought you'd joined all the guys who did the Buffy-dump. Then I started wondering what was wrong with me that no man I ever cared about wanted to stay. I thought 'I must really be a hateful person to keep driving loved ones away.' I'm surprised Dawn hasn't left yet." The forlorn, unhappy note in her voice was heartbreaking. Did she really think of herself like that?

Without thinking he shifted on the couch and waved for her to sit beside him. He stared at her intently as she complied while she bent her head and began tracing small circles on the soft material. "Buffy, you're not a hateful person. If anything, you're one of the most loving people I've ever known. True, you can be self-centered, thoughtless, scatterbrained, willful and impulsive—"

"Hey!" She glared only to see a naughty grin flit over his face. "Ha ha. Right. So Buffy's the jerk not her boyfriends."

He instantly sobered. "I didn't say that."

"No, you said I was self-centered and thoughtless. That's so much better." She pouted and leaned pointedly away from him.

"Before this conversation degenerates into sulking, I merely wanted to point out that you're a loving person with flaws like anyone else. You've simply had bad luck with the men in your life."

"I guess." The concession to her feelings obviously did little to raise her spirits. [Buffy strikes out with guys. It's not me, babe, it's you.]

"So where do I come into your assessment of jerks?" he queried, breaking into her train of thought.

"You're not. That was kinda the point. Dawn saw you as being Mr. Terrific and I'd been seeing you that way, too. It's just I'd gotten into the habit of not talking to you or writing or phoning—"

"Or even mailing a postcard," he added sadly.

"Yeah. I just thought you hated me or you were happy in England and you'd already refused to stay when I asked you. So I couldn't ask you to come back. And if I couldn't ask you to come back, what was the point of talking to you? Just to say things were going swell on the Hellmouth? Didn't seem worth it." Her voice wobbled slightly and she gulped, unable to finish.

"Still—I would have appreciated a kind word from you now and then. We were together for five years. I would think that would rate a phone call or two."

"You got me. Like you said, self-centered and thoughtless." She paused for a moment and then said in a voice so low he barely heard her, "I'm sorry, Giles. For everything. Not just the phone call lackage but for lousing up your life. When I think about it real hard, I'm surprised you didn't leave sooner."

He waited a beat and then hugged her. Somewhere during their talk the gap between them had closed so that they were sitting side by side. "I wanted to."

Her head shot up and he saw disbelief and anger in her hazel eyes. "You did? You were going to leave? When? Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was when you were dating that Riley Finn." A harsh gleam surfaced and died in his eyes at the recollection of her Initiative boyfriend. "You had a powerful fighter by your side not to mention the resources of the United States government and had proven what a capable warrior you were repeatedly. As your Watcher, I decided I'd taught you everything you needed to know. It seemed time for me to step graciously aside."

"What changed your mind?"

"Well, that business with Glory. You needed my backup more than ever, it seemed, not less. I saw once again how the Council put their own agenda above the Slayer's and thought, if one representative didn't stick up for you, you would be cast adrift. I-I couldn't let that happen."

"That's it? You only stayed because you thought I needed Watcher abilities on my side?" Her gaze was wounded as if she couldn't believe he would dismiss his place in her life so easily.

"I never thought you saw me in any other light."

Silence fell over the room as he watched her struggle inwardly. "Everything Dawn wrote about you in that essay was true. But you were more to me than that. It's just—you left me, twice, and I couldn't stand it. I never told you—I mean, how could I talk to you after you left me _again_ when I knew you didn't care about me except as a Slayer and nothing else? And it never seemed the right time. You were always getting injured or I was dying and then that stupid contest came along and you seemed so different when I told you about it and you agreed to come here and I wondered what you were feeling only you wouldn't say anything…and I guess I love you, Giles." Her words sputtered to a stop and she gasped a little for breath, her head bent towards the floor.

"Buffy." He tilted her head up and saw the bright shine of tears in her eyes. Goodness, they really were the loveliest shade of hazel. He'd seen how changeable they were according to her moods and whatever she was wearing. Now they seemed to glisten with repressed grief. He leaned forward and kissed her very tenderly with nothing of the fierce passion he had displayed for those Harlequin berks downstairs. 

When their lips parted, she smiled shakily at him. "I guess that means you're not entirely grossed out, huh?"

"Not in the least. I love you, too, Buffy." 

Her eyes lit up and a wondrous smile plastered itself on her face. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him close, raining quick little pecks all over his face. When she pulled back, a high flush was on her cheeks and those hazel eyes glimmered. "Really? You're not just saying that 'cause I said it? Because you don't have to, really. I'll understand if you don't—"

He clasped her around her waist and kissed her again, cutting off her incipient chattering. His nimble tongue stroked her bottom lip and pressed downward, mutely asking for entry. Her lips opened just a little, enough for the tip of his tongue to tease the upper rounded curve of her lower lip. Then her tongue tip tantalizingly flicked at his. 

He sighed through his nose and hugged her harder, their tongues brushing and stroking at each other's. Buffy's head was swimming again in the most delicious way. She thought the top of her scalp was about to fly off. She tugged at Giles' shoulders and felt herself being tipped back onto the couch cushions.

When she let out a muffled "mmmph" as she landed jarringly on the surface, he came back to his senses briefly. "Buffy, I think we should stop this."

"Stop? No. What's with the stoppage? D-didn't you like it?" Her voice wobbled again and his heart smote him at the underlying uncertainty. She'd had enough lovers to gain a certain prowess in bed and yet she had all the self-confidence of an untried virgin. The depression of being abandoned by all those men had had a serious impact on her self-esteem. 

He did his best to reassure her. "I-I did like it. Very much. You're a wonderful kisser, Buffy. A first-rate snogger."

At the unfamiliar term, her nose wrinkled in the cutest fashion. "Snogger? Ewww. That sounds like you're digging through garbage or something."

"Well, forgive me if our English terms don't meet with your approval," he said in a mock hurt tone.

"I wasn't making fun of the English. It just sounds weird, that's all." She thought over what else he'd just said. "So you think I'm a good kisser?"

"Undoubtedly. It takes two, you know." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Then why'd you stop?" 

"Buffy, we know we love each other and that's a wonderful first step. But you must admit that things between us have been unsatisfactory for a number of years. A brief conversation and a few kisses aren't going to set things right and you know it."

She sat up and rearranged her tousled hair. "Yeah, I know. No easy solutions for the Slayer." She sighed and peered at him. "Which brings us back to the bed problem. We love each other but we ain't a couple. We're—" She scrunched up her brows as she considered the question. "What _are_ we, exactly?"

"Two good friends who are trying to iron out their mutual problems before they take their relationship to the next step."

She rolled her eyes at the pompous phrasing. "Wow. You come up with that yourself or did you get that out of Cosmopolitan?"

He smiled, taking her scoffing tone for the easy raillery it was. "It merely seemed an accurate assessment of the situation."

"Right. The next level. And that would be?"

"No next level yet. We're at the talking stage, remember?"

"Oh. Okay. Talking." She fidgeted, plucking at a loose strand from the couch. "So what do we talk about?"

"Well, you said you'd been thinking about me before Dawn decided to add forgery to her list of talents. What were you thinking exactly?"

"We're starting at the easy ones, I see." She paused a moment to arrange her thoughts. "Dawn pretty much said it all. She was angry at R.J. and started going over all the guys we both knew and how much they let us down. Then she thought about the one guy who didn't—only she was thinking everything I'd been thinking except I thought of it first. You were good, kind, firm when you needed to be…" She snuck a peek at him. "Handsome, too."

She was treated to a measured stare. "Handsome? I thought you considered me old and gross."

"No, I thought the idea of your having sex was gross and I was majorly creeped out when I learned you did it with my mom. And on top of a police car, no less. Ewww again, Giles."

"Dear Lord, are you going to hold that incident against me forever? We were both the victims of magic-tainted chocolate, Buffy—just as you were the dupe of R.J. and his infernal jacket. And I also seem to recall an incident with beer-swilling frat boys."

"Gotcha. Consider the band candy incident buried."

"Good."

"Great."

He waited and then cleared his throat. "I believe you were saying something about my being handsome?"

She stuck out her tongue at him. "Begging for compliments, Giles? Who knew you were so needy?"

"Credit where credit is due, Miss Summers," he stated with sly gravity.

"Well, I wasn't the only one thinking you were handsome. You had Jenny Calendar and that Ophelia woman…"

"Her name is Olivia," he said severely.

"Uh huh. And Willow had a bit of a crush on you once."

He blinked in surprise. Willow? No, Buffy was making fun of him. "I don't believe you. She was deeply into her obsession with Xander when I knew her. Then there was her affair with Oz and after that she fell in love with Tara."

She laughed when she saw his incredulous expression. "Giles, back when I first knew her, she told me she thought you were cute! I think it was that accent and the fact that you were so brainy. That put you head and shoulders above Xander in that department."

"Ah. I never knew that." 

"Yeah. She thought that picture of you those Harlequin people put up on their website was totally hot."

He could feel his cheeks flaming. Buffy burst out laughing again. "Giles, you should see your face! You're getting so red!"

"I really don't see anything to be amused at, Buffy. You had me displayed on that site like, like, some cheap pinup model. It was completely undignified."

"Don't blame me, Watcherman. Dawn took that picture. It was her idea to send it in. Willow thought it was smoking."

"I-I see." Willow was full of surprises. Smoking? No one had described him like that since his Ripper days. It seemed he still had it where it counted. Then he looked at Buffy. "And you? What did you think?"

She bit her lip and resumed plucking at that thread. Really, she was going to unravel the entire cushion if she continued that. "I thought—well, I'd never seen you like that. You never took off your shirt when we were sparring. Uh, is that what my mom saw when you two were…you know? 'Cause I'm wondering why she didn't try being with you like that again 'cause I definitely would have…" She cut off her words and twined the thread around her finger, snapping it off viciously.

He grasped her hand and brought it away from the couch before she could do any further damage. "I've often thought of you that way myself."

She gazed into his eyes, mouth agape. "Really? But you never…I mean, I never saw anything." Her eyes darted to his trouser front and he shifted self-consciously.

"Buffy, you trained in front of me in the flimsiest of clothing. You'd wear these skimpy tank tops. Often you didn't wear a bra. You would gyrate to the most pounding, godawful music with your breasts swaying, your hips rotating…" His voice trailed away as his gaze swept on the aforementioned portions of her anatomy. His eyes lingered on her boobs and she could feel the nipples getting all hard and achy inside her dress. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and he cleared his throat noisily, dropping her hand and inching farther away on the couch. "Well, that's enough of that."

"Is it?" she purred and shifted closer to him. "I don't think that's nearly enough."

"Now, Buffy. Please remember what I said. I want to spend this weekend in discussion. You and I have a great many things we need to sort out."

"Such as?" Buffy grinned slowly when she sensed his unease. She definitely had him on edge and he didn't sound so determined to keep away as he had moments ago.

"What we're going to tell your friends, for instance."

"Oh." Damn. Mood-killer right on cue. Nothing like talking about the other people in your life to destroy the romance. [Way to go, Giles.] Buffy scowled. Then she tossed her head in defiance. "We tell them we're in love, that's all."

"Just like that? No explanations? No careful lead-ins to the subject? Just a weekend away and 'Surprise! Giles and Buffy are in love!" I think not, Buffy. You and I are still not entirely sure of our ground. We must settle all our difficulties before springing this on the rest of the group."

"Fine. Have it your way." She crossed her arms and sighed in exaggerated patience. Buffy thought he was making way too much fuss about this, but she was willing to go along with his rules—for now. "So what do we have to settle exactly?"

"My place in your life." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "I know. We've just settled that we're in love. But am I still your Watcher? If not, what am I to you? I'm not willing to set up residence in your home as a live-in boyfriend."

"And I don't want to keep taking money from you, either. I still owe you from last time." 

"You owe me nothing, Buffy. You have saved the world more times than I can count. If anything, those pestiferous Watchers owe you. Consider the money well earned on your part."

"Thanks." The silence fell again as they each became wrapped up in their own thoughts. "I'll always think of you as my Watcher, you know. Even if you aren't one in fact, you'll always be that to me. It's just you've become so much more because you didn't stay the typical Watcher. That's why Wesley never had a chance."

"Really? Not even as a romantic interest?" Giles teased.

Her nose wrinkled in palpable distaste. "WESLEY?!? Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt? Forget that. Let Cordelia have him." 

"Still he was rather young and quite good looking in his way."

"Forget it. There's only one Watcher for me and I'm sitting next to him." She slid across the seat again and wound her arm in his. He tensed slightly and then relaxed when she made no other advances on his person. She stroked his arm idly and then said, "We still haven't settled the bed issue."

Resisting the urge to polish his glasses again, he harrumphed and stammered, "W-well. You can take the bed and I'll settle for the couch."

"Are you sure?" She was disappointed and made no attempts to hide it. She'd been hoping he'd changed his mind about the sex. They hadn't actually come out and mentioned having it with each other. But all the signs had been there and they'd definitely been flirting with each other. [So Giles has been watching my titties all these years. Who knew?]

"I'm very sure. We have an entire weekend ahead of us and we're staying in one of the most bustling and entertaining cities in the world. Let's make the most of our time here." 

"What do you want to do, then?"

He pulled a hotel brochure out of his pocket. "According to this, the Plaza Hotel has four on-site restaurants. We could get something to eat."

"Or we can catch a Broadway show. That's what tourists in New York usually do, right?"

He sniffed in disdain. "I refuse to sit through that travesty of one of Verdi's most famous operas."

"Huh?" What was he talking about? Sometimes she didn't get Giles at all.

"Aida," he replied in a resigned tone. Of course she wouldn't know the reference. He doubted Buffy had ever listened to an opera.

"Um, okay. How about The Lion King then?"

"Why would you—why would anyone—pay $35 to see a loud, garish Broadway reproduction of what was admittedly a very fine film geared and catered towards children's tastes?" 

She puffed out her lips in exasperation. "Fine. What do _you_ want to see, Mr. Too-Stuck-Up-for-the-Masses?"

"Perhaps a show at the Roundabout. They show excellent theatrical productions."

"Sounds boring. Maybe a movie?"

"A boisterous display of cinematic car crashes or a feminine-geared romance?"

"If you mean chick flick, then yeah. Unless you'd prefer a shoot-'em-up or something with Colin Firth in it. Has he made anything lately?" she mused.

"No, a 'chick flick' is perfectly acceptable. But let's get something to eat first. The airline food was predictably foul and I'm rather famished."

She beamed. "Great. You call downstairs to book us a table. I'll check out the papers." She grabbed some cookies from the refreshment center and picked up the New York Times. 

Dinner was more than welcome. To Buffy's relief, her earlier nausea from the airplane food had completely disappeared and she tucked into her food with a relish that was noted with amusement by her Watcher. Finally she looked up as she was directing a piece of tender steak towards her mouth and caught his smiling gaze. "What? Do I have something between my teeth?"

"I'm surprised the food stays long enough in your mouth for you to chew it. It looks as if you're inhaling your meal."

She blushed and popped the bit of meat into her mouth. Chewing it enthusiastically, she swallowed and patted her lips with the napkin. "I'm just so hungry, you know? I don't think I really had much of an appetite last year. It's like I'm making up for lost time." She covered her mouth with her hand just before letting out an extremely unladylike burp.

"Yes, you did seem rather thin last year. I'm glad to see you've regained your appetite—for everything," he concluded meaningfully.

She shot him a sharp look. "I'm surprised you even noticed how I looked. All I heard that showed you cared was you chewing out Willow for bringing me back from the dead."

"Y-you heard that? You never mentioned it." His brow wrinkled as he tried to recall exactly what he'd said to the redheaded wiccan. He had accused her of arrogance and wondered if she'd realized what effect she must have had on Buffy.

"You sounded really upset and it was a private conversation. Plus it made me feel kinda crappy because you sounded as if you didn't want me there and Willow was so totally full of herself. Then you left after that and mentioning it seemed kinda pointless." She jabbed viciously at the rest of her steak as if the memory were dredging up feelings of repressed anger…which they probably were.

"I hadn't realized…Buffy, I wasn't sorry you were alive. I was just appalled at Willow's actions. I understand better than anyone how dangerous such magicks can be and the horrific aftereffects they can have. Believe me, love, I was angry at Willow, not unhappy you were back."

"I-I know that now. But back then I was so numb and confused. I was out of touch with everything—my friends, their problems, my own emotions. I couldn't see the good in anything. I certainly couldn't get why my Watcher was just taking off when I was feeling suicidal."

"Suicidal?" He hadn't known that and he felt a sliver of ice slip down his spine. "I had no idea things were that awful for you."

She let her fork and knife fall to her plate with a clatter as she glared at him. "Really? You had no clue? Which part of the 'it feels like I'm dying' speech I gave in the Magic Box did you miss? I was in need of serious help, Giles. Something was wrong with me and nobody, not even Tara, could see what it was. I thought if anybody could help me figure it out, it'd be you. And then you rode off into the sunset." 

"Is that why you turned to Spike?" He didn't mean to bring him up, not during their meal, in a public place. But the thought of that monster groping his beloved had rankled him for months even after he took off with Willow to England. He simply couldn't ignore the pain the knowledge caused him any longer.

Her face turned white and a mixture of emotions—guilt, grief, anger and shame—passed over it before her lips thinned in defiance. "Maybe. He knew something was off. He found out he could hit me and told me Willow had brought me back wrong. He seemed the only one to get it. And I used him, took my frustrations and my emptiness out on him whenever I could. Having sex with him was a safe outlet. Except for the slaying, I didn't really have any others."

"Your friends—"

"—Were the ones who did this to me," she finished after resuming tackling her meal. "So no going to them. Willow was starting to scare me with all the magic she was using; I was afraid if I went to her, she'd just make things worse. Dawn was getting into trouble over and over again and she was just a kid anyway. What was I supposed to do, burden her with my pain?"

"And you never once thought of calling me?" He spoke as gently as he could to draw her out. 

She stared sightlessly into her plate and then sighed. The sound seemed to break something loose in her soul. "I thought about calling you every single day. But, if the thought of my committing suicide wasn't enough to keep you here, a little thing like a molecular gene tan wasn't gonna bring you running back."

"Molecular what?" Where had she come up with that singular phrase?

"Tara's explanation for what was wrong with me. She said there wasn't anything different about me. I was still human, still Buffy. She didn't have any reassuring pats on the backs to give. So I went right back to pounding Spike. It seemed to help—a little." 

The nonchalant phrasing floored him. She was so blasé about the whole business. True, she had ended the sordid affair months ago. But the sheer misery of her ordeal made this flippancy callous in the extreme. He reached forward impulsively and clasped her hand. "Buffy, I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you."

She flashed a tight smile and shrugged. "Hey. It's over. No biggie."

"No, don't talk in that dismissive tone. You were in pain, you were hurting and I didn't see it. You blamed me for running. You did, so don't deny it," he added when it seemed she would contradict him. "However, I'm angry beyond words that you would turn to Spike of all the creatures for solace. I think I would have preferred Angel to that bastard."

"I didn't know you felt that way about Angel."

He glared, outraged at the sally, then softened as he noted her mischievous, teasing smile. "Ha bloody ha. You know very well what I mean, Buffy."

She smirked. "I know. If it's any consolation, I would have preferred _you_ to that bastard. But you were gone. So I had to settle for the walking corpse."

Once again, her remarkable insensitivity flummoxed him. He had noted her seeming indifference to others before now. Most of the time he had put it down to the youth that seemed to blind all her age to the cares of the world around them. Now he wondered if it was merely a desperate attempt at handling overwhelming emotions and problems she simply wasn't equipped to handle. 

[One girl alone in all the world…] The credo that he'd recited to her so long ago whispered through his mind. For the first time, he turned over those words and realized what a devastating burden they placed on any girl chosen to be the Slayer. He recalled Kendra with her single-minded, almost obsessive, devotion to Slaying. Then there was Faith and her fanatical immersion in killing without a thought to the safety of others or the true sacred nature of her calling. Would any of them have weathered the trials of Buffy's life as well as she? Would any of them have survived resurrection without completely losing their sanity? All in all, it was remarkable she had dealt with things as well as she had.

"Giles, I don't feel like going to the movies again." He nearly missed her flat comment and noted with concern the lifeless slump of her posture.

"No, no. I insist. We both need a break, you and I. Besides, this entire weekend is at other people's expense. When shall we have an opportunity to live this splendidly again?"

The teasing in his voice was infectious. He seemed genuinely determined to cheer her up. Who knows, maybe that chick flick she picked out might actually do the trick of loosening him up.

[Goodness. I had no idea that women's movies could be so—graphic. That's the sort of thing that gets an R rating? The MPAA should seriously consider revising their standards.] The sexual antics on the screen had caught him completely unprepared. He had also caught sounds of distinctive moaning coming from the back seats. [This isn't a drive-in, for pity's sakes. Why don't they get a room?]

Buffy had been absolutely enthralled by the storyline. But she hadn't been so caught up that she'd missed Giles's unease. He'd shifted about several times in his seat during the sex scenes. At one point he'd had to drape his coat over his lap. After that he had remained rigidly still relaxing only during the latter half of the movie.

She thought about the guy in the movie. He was totally hot, all right, with the dark, sexy smoky-eyed good looks she went for. But he wasn't as handsome as the tall, silent Englishman striding by her side. Shooting a glance at the man beside her, she sighed in frustration. Was Giles really going to cling to the 'only talking' rule all weekend? Fine, then she was going to talk. "So what did you think of the movie?"

"What? Oh, well, um, it was certainly—not what I'd been expecting." Casting about for an innocuous comment that wouldn't give away his nervousness, he added, "That actress was extremely talented. She had a fine grasp of her role, I must say."

"She had a fine grasp of quite a few things," Buffy replied. The innocence in her voice was completely belied by her wicked smile and she was delighted when Giles stumbled slightly over the sidewalk.

"Yes. W-well, I think I prefer movies that have more of a plot and less of a pretense for characters to divest themselves of their clothing at every opportunity."

"But you said you liked the actress," Buffy pointed out.

"Actress, yes. Storyline no."

"So what are you trying to say? You liked the actress but her naked bod didn't grab you?" He didn't reply for a moment and when she looked at him she noticed a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What? What did I say?"

"I was just reminded of a conversation Casanova once had with the Marshall de Richelieu. They were at a French theater and the Marshall asked Casanova which among the assembled actresses he found the most appealing to the eye. When Casanova pointed out his choice, the Marshall replied that he didn't like her legs."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Buffy prodded him. "Uh huh. Then what happened?"

"Casanova replied, 'Well, monsieur, legs apart, isn't she rather attractive?' "

Buffy paused for a moment. Then the underlying meaning of the anecdote dawned on her and her eyes widened. "Ooh, Giles! That was—that was a dirty joke! I didn't know you told those."

"I'm a man of many talents, my dear." Buffy laughed, the wide grin splitting her face, and Giles felt a surge of triumph. Had Spike made her laugh in that open, free way? Somehow he doubted it. In all the time he'd known the bleached menace, his entire repository of humor appeared a very mean-spirited sort, designed to hurt the people around him. 

She continued giggling as she thought over the joke once more. Then she sobered slightly. "So romance doesn't really grab you, huh?"

"On the contrary. I adore romance when properly displayed. But I think 'romance' is a rather loose term to apply to what we saw in that theater."

"Oh, you don't think romance can lead to hot, sweaty, monkey sex after awhile?" Really, Giles was just so cute when he did the blushing thing. She wondered how far down it went when he was naked…and she really REALLY wanted to find out.

"Of course it can. It's just that movies nowadays seem blindly focused on the bare beginnings of romance and lustful, panting sexual activities to the exclusion of all else."

"Well, if you had your way, what would you put in a romantic movie?"

"As Alfred Hitchcock once said 'Movies are life with the boring parts cut out.' I imagine my ideas of romance would constitute trivial activities that no one would want to watch."

"Such as?"

"Well, putting up with watching her buy clothes—especially if you knew you were taking them off afterwards. Massaging her feet after she came in from a hard day of work. Just falling asleep in each other's arms because you're both too tired for sex but you still want each other's company. Eating breakfast together on a Sunday morning. No conversations except for light, inconsequential talk because all the important things had been said. You know—mundane things like that."

Buffy was silent for a long time and Giles wondered if he had bored her. Then she said in a low voice, "That's beautiful. I couldn't have said it better myself. Sure you don't want to direct your own chick flick, Giles?"

"Positive. I've already got my hands full managing you."

[You don't have your hands full of me yet. But you will if I have anything to say about it.] If Giles liked the idea of shopping for sexy clothes, then maybe Buffy could oblige him. After all, she had $500 in her pocket. She could buy some serious lingerie with that kind of money…

But in the meantime, Giles was insistent on being the proper English gentleman. He had refused all her subtle and not-so-subtle hints that they should share the bed. She tried to think of something that might delay his inevitable retreat. "You know, Giles, I was wondering about something."

"Yes?" He came out of the shower and she had to stifle another giggle. He was wearing dark green cotton pajama top and pants. They made him look cuddly instead of sexy and she wondered what had happened to that robe she'd seen him wearing when that Olivia had been with him. 

She drew her mind back to her question. "You said you loved me. I was wondering…what is it you love about me?"

"Ah." He was unprepared for that line of conversation. But long experience with women told him he'd better have something positive to say or else he was going to be trapped in this hotel room with one very brassed off Slayer. "Well, you possess many sterling qualities," he hedged.

"Apart from my self-centeredness and thoughtlessness, you mean?" 

He didn't miss the slight bitterness in her reply no matter how lightly she spoke. "You have the advantage of me, Buffy. Your feelings for me were all carefully laid out in one very well planned essay. My feelings for you should be allowed a similar opportunity to arrange themselves."

"You mean you have to _think_ about why you love me, is that it?" 

Now there was a dangerous glint in her eye and he inwardly shrank from her baleful regard. "Buffy, love doesn't really have any qualifiers. Sometimes you love somebody even when no one else can fathom why. I'm sure if we stay together…"

"If? You don't want to stay with me?" Now there was hurt in her voice. Damnation, there was no easy way out of this dilemma, was there?

"What I mean to say, if I may be allowed to proceed without interruption, is that our altered relationship is still very new and fragile. Who's to say what the future will hold? I merely point out that many people will look at the two of us together and wonder what a vibrant, beautiful blossom like yourself is doing with an old codger like me."

"Oh. You're saying love doesn't have any explanations. At least, not any other people can figure out." She re-focused on his face. "But I'm not other people, Giles. I'm the significant other in this relationship and I want to know why you love me."

He sighed and sat down on the bed beside her. "Buffy, please. Don't put me on the spot like this. Today has been emotionally draining for the both of us. I love you. Have no doubts about that. Let that be enough for now."

"Okay, I guess." Geez, that sounded a little whiny to her. Giles was right; she _was_ self-centered sometimes. So he didn't gush all over her or talk about drowning in her like Spike did. And what the hell was _that_ all about, anyway? What was she supposed to be, some sort of flood?

After she showered, she came out to see that Giles was safely nestled on the couch and apparently fast asleep. She tiptoed close to him and noticed how sleep seemed to smooth out the worry lines in his face. The years fell away from him and made him almost young again. Buffy smiled, planted a chaste kiss on his forehead and turned out the light. 

After she crept out of the room, Giles opened his eyes and listened intently to the sounds in the bedroom. Several minutes passed and then an hour. When he was absolutely certain she was settled in for the night, he switched back on the light, went to the desk and began to write.

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she cracked her jaws in a huge yawn. She stretched out luxuriously in the bed and then blinked, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Where the hell was she? She squinted as she tried to sort out her strange surroundings. Then she remembered where she was and who was with her.

She grinned and sat up. She was enjoying a weekend with Giles. Giles who was probably still in the living room. She wondered what he liked for breakfast. [Oh, I know! He likes Earl Grey tea and jelly donuts. I wonder if this hotel has them.] Turning to her side, she was surprised to see an envelope laid upon the other pillow. It was labeled simply 'Buffy' in Giles's elegant script and she opened the flap. Inside the envelope was a single piece of hotel stationery with a few short lines written on it. 

"What I Love about Buffy Summers" - A short essay in 100 words or less: 

__

"She is possibly the most courageous woman I've ever met. She cares deeply about others and the fate of the world. She takes for granted the good she's done so others must point it out to her. She's loving, beautiful, kind, sexy and possesses a core of inner strength unmatched by any other person I've known. She is also willful, stubborn and totally irrepressible. When she does make mistakes, she usually errs on the side of love. I cannot imagine life without her. I only know the world would be a poorer place for me if she weren't in it."

Buffy's eyes were brimming over by the time she had finished. Did Giles really see her like that? How had he managed to keep such feelings hidden from her all these years? She sniffled and wiped her eyes. It wouldn't do to greet Giles with red nose and eyes, would it?

She jumped up and ran to open the bedroom door—only to catch Giles with his fist uplifted in the process of knocking. He was startled by her sudden appearance and took in her flushed face and the paper clutched in her hand. "You got my note, I see."

Anything else he might have said was lost as Buffy flung her arms around him and pulled his head down for a deep kiss. He wound his arms around her and returned her kiss with equal fervor. When their lips parted at last, he said breathlessly, "I'll take that as a yes."

"Oh Giles. This is so wonderful. It's an almost perfect way to wake up."

He raised his eyebrows. "Almost? What would be your notion of perfection then?" She swept her eyes up and down his body and he smiled slowly before assuming a stern expression. "Ah. Buffy, remember what we agreed."

"I'm not so sure _I_ agreed," she muttered. "But it was a lovely surprise all the same. Dawn was right about what a great guy you are, Rupert Giles."

He stilled for a moment and then murmured, "Say that again."

"Say what?"

"My name. You've never called me Rupert before. I'm surprised those Harlequin people accepted your facile explanation for the lapse."

"Oh. Rupert." It felt odd to say that when she'd called him Giles for so long. But at the sound of his name, the green in his eyes seemed to deepen and glow. He kissed her once more and she whispered "Rupert" when he pulled back again. "Are you sure you want to stick to the 'just talking' rule?"

He swallowed visibly. "Quite sure. Although I'm beginning to waver in my resolve."

She pulled his head down towards hers again and crowed in her mind. If she had anything to say about it, that rule was going to be chucked out the window…and sooner than he thought.

TBC


End file.
